“What in the world is your problem?” she demanded as I put on a fresh coat of lip gloss. “I thought things were going well with you two?” She lowered her voice and said, “You’re sleeping with him, for goodness’ sakes.”
I shushed her, glancing under the stall doors, checking for feet, then said, “Everything’s fine. Going well.”
“Well, then, what’s with the chip on your shoulder? Could you act any less happy to see him? Gawd.”
“What do you want me to do?” I said. “Turn cartwheels? Maybe do a couple round-offs?”
“Hell, yeah, you should be turning cartwheels. Ryan James is the most eligible bachelor in all of Texas, maybe the entire country. He is famous, funny, wealthy, athletic, tall, and painfully beautiful.”
“Tall?” I said. “Really? That’s on your list? Miller was tall.”
“C’mon. What doesn’t he have? A Ph.D.? Royal blood? You still looking for a baron or a duke?” she said, mocking my brief teenage crush on Prince Harry.
“I don’t know, Luce. The whole thing is just … embarrassing. Everyone is staring at us,” I said, my insecurity returning.
“Since when do you care what people think?” Lucy said.
“I don’t,” I said, shrugging. “Not that much.”
“Well, then, stop that shit. Now. And rise to the occasion, would you?”
“Okay, okay,” I said. “I’ll do better. I promise.”
“Good,” Lucy said. “Because this is your life.”
“I got it,” I said, as we left the bathroom.
When we got back out to the bar, Ryan and Neil had moved from the pool table to a booth. They both did a half stand as we sat down, and Lucy gave me a look that said, Add chivalrous to the list.
“So I was just telling Neil about your Heisman Trophy Rain Man thing you got going on. Quiz her. She’ll get it. Any year.”
I glanced at Lucy, thinking this was tricky terrain, as I’d never told her that I called her dad that night.
“Nineteen sixty-five,” Neil said, pointing at me.
I knew it was Mike Garrett but played dumb, hoping they’d change the subject. It was the wrong strategy because Ryan said, “Oh, c’mon. You were on fire that night talking to Coach! ’Sixty-five. You got this!”
“Mike Garrett. USC,” I mumbled.
“What night?” Lucy said, never missing a trick.
“The night of that charity thing in Dallas,” Ryan said.
“Daddy was there?” Lucy looked confused.
“No. Shea called him,” Ryan said in a loud voice as the waitress brought his second drink.
“Called him? On the phone?” She looked at Ryan, then me.
Ryan answered for me, “Yeah. To discuss Heisman Trophy winners. Classic.”
Lucy gave me a look that I couldn’t read, and for a second I was worried. But then she smiled and said, “You are so sweet, Shea … Neil, isn’t Shea the sweetest?”
Neil nodded while Lucy continued. “That is so sweet of you to call Daddy to play a Heisman Trophy trivia game when you know he’s lonely. You’re the best.”
I smiled, then made my big announcement, desperate to change the subject. “So guess what? I got the job. At The Dallas Post,” I said, pulling the sealed envelope out of my purse.
“Omigod. Congratulations!” Lucy said. “That’s amazing news! Why didn’t you say anything before now?”
I shrugged and told her I was waiting for the right moment, as Ryan squeezed my leg and congratulated me and Neil tapped his mug of beer against mine.
“For which beat? Texas?” Ryan said, finishing his Jack and Coke with one easy tilt of his head. “Are you going Benedict Arnold on us?”
I said I didn’t know as I opened the envelope, unfolded the letter, read it, then reread it, sure that I’d gotten it wrong the first time. But no, it was clear. I felt myself grinning so wide that my cheeks hurt. If Lucy wanted giddy, she was about to get a freaking lap dance from her best friend.
“What’s it say?” Lucy asked. “Is the pay good?”
“Not really,” I said, noting that I’d actually have to take a thousand-dollar pay cut from my current measly salary.
“Then what?” Lucy said, grabbing for the letter.
I held it out of her reach, relishing the final few seconds when I was the only one to know the fabulous news.
“Dammit, Shea! Tell us!” Lucy said.
“Guess who the Post just hired to cover … yoooour verrry own … Walker Bron-coooos!” My voice escalated, imitating Mac MacDonald, the voice of the Broncos, then finished off with a yelp, no longer caring who was watching us as I stood and held up the letter like a newspaper boy on V-J Day.